These Hands
by JadeLightning-Wolf
Summary: [Oneshot]For too long Kenshin has felt himself unworthy of Kaoru's love without ever asking her opinion on the matter. So naturally, Kaoru takes it upon herself to give him that opinion.


_A/N: Please don't hurt me for writing this and not working on "Eternity." I wanted to get the creative juices flowing and this story basically slapped me in the head and said "Write me!" So I did, and now I present it for your viewing pleasure. Kenshin is not mine…at least not until that voodoo ceremony is complete. But in the meantime, I'll just mess with his world…a lot. Rated T for a little swearing and a lot of innuendo._

**These Hands**

I'm watching him again. I don't think he knows that I come and watch him…but maybe he does. His life once depended on knowing who stood in the shadows just outside his vision. He thinks I don't know he does this. He thinks I don't see him come to this well every day and wash his hands, even though they're already clean from doing the laundry.

I know why he does it too. Those conversations with Sano late at night are not as private as he thinks. I've learned a trick or two from Yahiko in my time. Hiding under the decking makes for a wonderful listening spot. He thinks he is unclean—unworthy. He thinks there is blood on his hands.

I know he loves me. I know he does. I've heard him tell Sano enough times. But his guilt will always hold him back. He will never act on his feelings, no matter how badly he might want to, because of his guilt. I also understand what this means. If he will not make the first move, than I will.

Megumi and Tae helped me come up with a plan. They, along with Tsubame, will be abducting Sano and Yahiko tonight. I'll be alone with him for supper. From there, the plan is my own. Kami, I hope it works.

He's sensed me. I see it in the way his shoulders tense beneath the worn, faded fabric of his gi—the way his back is suddenly a little straighter, head a little higher. Slowly, he turns, hair whipping across his back in a quick gust of wind. It flows like silken streamers of sunset, glinting in the late afternoon sun. He smiles, but it does not reach his eyes. Those amethyst colored irises are guarded and closed tightly. Please Kenshin, this night, just once, stop guarding yourself. I want to see the smile reach your eyes.

He's acknowledged me, so I'll acknowledge him. Slowly I step from behind the edge of the building, tugging my sleeve self-consciously at being caught. The nervous motion is making me irritated at myself so I stop. I don't know what to say. What can I say? He doesn't want me to know he does this, comes here to wash his hands at least ten times a day. If they weren't already calloused and rough from the sword, he'd have ruined them with this habit.

He also shares my loss for words, allowing his smile to speak for him. "_Please don't ask what I was doing,"_ it says. _"Please don't worry yourself for my sake. I'm not worthy of your worry. Please, Kaoru-dono, don't say anything."_

Of course, I'll oblige him now. How can I not when I know if I ask, I'll only drive him away? But he won't hide from me forever. Neither he nor I can live that way. Either he will give me all of himself, or he will run. Tonight might be the night I find out.

It's as though he senses my thoughts. The smile falls away. He understands I will not ask him anything aloud, but I cannot keep the questions from my eyes. We stand there, hot summer wind whipping fretfully around us and raising up clouds of dust loosened as the grass withered under the broiling sun. I realize, not without irony, that we face each other like he faces many of his enemies. The wide swath of ground between us will be eaten up in the emotional battle we both know is coming. I almost smile bitterly when I see his hand stray towards the hilt of his sakabatou. The stupid sword is as much a defense mechanism as it is a comfort to him. It is something he will always have, and he knows this well, just as he knows that he will always have his guilt. But just because he has that guilt does not mean that another cannot share it. I can do little to aid him in a physical battle, but perhaps I can ease that battle that rages in his soul—the one he fights with himself. I will know tonight. Without another word, I turn away and go to find Yahiko. Practice will take my mind off what will come later.

oOoOoOoOo

We are alone now. Supper was a quiet affair without the others. Neither of us spoke. He was tense through the whole affair, gripping his chopsticks with white knuckles and bowing his head to hide behind his bangs. I might make him cut the damn things if he stays with me. But I love his hair, so I'll probably never say a word. If all goes well, the next time he bows his head in such a way, I'll be able to touch him, to let him know that I am near to hear his troubles, that I love him.

After we finished washing the dishes, I told him I wanted to sit with him a while and watch the stars appear in the sky. He complied without question. He will do anything to make me happy, except marry me of course. And now we're sitting her on the deck, side by side but not quite touching. He keeps glancing at me, knowing that I didn't ask him out here just to look at the stars, though I've done that before. I'm getting nervous. I can feel my heart rate increase and try to breathe deeply to slow it, but cannot concentrate. If I don't say it now, I never will. But I have to be tactful. I can just here Megumi now. "_You? Tactful? Kaoru, you being tactful is like Sano being a gentleman. It will never happen."_

"Orihime and Hikoboshi are drawing close. Tanabata will come soon."

He only nods, knowing that I'm trying to ease the tension between us and not allowing himself to take the bait. If he will not allow me to coax him, then I have to say it now. Screw tactfulness.

"Kenshin," I say, pushing myself to my knees and turning to face him. He looks at me warily but does not draw away. "I saw you washing your hands at the well today. I've seen you before."

His eyes widen and then narrow, yet another layer of coldness being placed between myself and his emotions.

"I know why you were washing them. You still feel the blood on them. After all these years, you still see blood on them where there should only be clean skin."

He puts on his rurouni face. He will try to convince me I am wrong.

"Kaoru-dono, sessha only washes his hands because they are dirty. Certainly, an ulterior motive seems a little silly."

I shake my head slowly. Any other night, I would have let it go, but tonight I cannot. I'm sorry Kenshin.

"I've heard you speak with Sano before, those rare nights you share a saucer of sake with him…and the nights where you don't. I know you tell him differently. Your hands are stained with blood. You don't deny it to him and you shouldn't deny it to me."

His face is falling, though he doesn't know it. He doesn't realize that the rurouni mask is crumbling under the words I've just spoken. He's rising now trying to leave.

"But Kenshin," I say, catching one of his hands as he moves to withdraw, "these hands are also colored with other things, things that are not as dark as blood."

I study the hand clasped between my own small palms, slowly tracing the fine lines of his palm, the graceful lines of his fingers. Calluses cover the bottom of his hand, making his fingers and palm hard and rough. The skin is red and dry with the work. On the back, fine scars line his fingers and knuckles, making pale lines in the golden flesh. His fingers are beautiful—long and slender and very strong. Perhaps in another lifetime he could have been a musician or an artisan. As I touch the back of his hand, he tenses, tendons standing out against faint blue veins. Slowly, I sooth the skin, easing until the tendons become less pronounced and the pulse I feel under my finger tips where I grasp his wrist slows.

"Once, I was injured in the arm by one of our enemies. Megumi was called away before the wound was healed so she asked you to treat it. Every day you found me, no matter what I was doing and made me sit down to change them. I can still remember how careful you were not to hurt me, how gentle your hands were as you rubbed on the medicine and wrapped the bandages. These hands are colored with healing.

"During the spring, when we had that horrible storm, the Akabeko was damaged by debris and part of the roof came in. You were the first man there when the storm cleared and you didn't come home until the hole was repaired. You knew Tae lived in the room beneath the hole and wanted to ensure she was safe, so with your hands you built the supports and applied the shingles and gathered the other men. These hands are colored with creation.

"When little Ayame-chan was sick, you visited her every day because you knew how much it would mean to her. Because she could not play outdoors, you found little toys and stories and brought them to her so she would not be unhappy with boredom. And when she slept, it was your hands that smoothed her bangs from her face and put a cool cloth on her head to ease her fever. These hands are colored with kindness.

"I remember when Yahiko came into our lives—how he collided into you on the bridge and I grabbed him because we both knew he'd taken your coin purse. But you just looked at him and saw a starving little boy and so would have let him keep the money. And later, with your hands, you carried him to our home where you knew he would be safe. These hands are colored with compassion."

I've taken his other hand by this time. He seems frozen where he was and I can not bring myself to look in his eyes, afraid of what I might see there. I plow on into the last thing I have planned to say—the last thing I need to say. Already I can feel the tears at the corners of my eyes as I conjure up the memory.

"And once, when our country was threatened, you took upon yourself a duty that should not have been yours to bear. And you also took it upon yourself to do that duty alone, because you cared for us all too much to see us in harm's way. So with your hands, you bid me farewell. These hands are colored with love.

"Kenshin," I say, daring to meet his eyes, "you are not the man you were ten years ago. You've changed since then. Yes, you were a hitokiri, and yes, you did kill people, but you did it because you felt it was your duty. And in the ten years since then, you've done many things you felt were your duty but did not involve killing anyone. Your hands may've once had blood on them; they may still, but it is hidden by the other things you've colored them with since then. It is washed away and hidden by healing and creation and beauty and tenderness and kindness and compassion and work and life and love; I love them. And I love the man who they belong to."

Slowly, I lean down and kiss each of his hands, pressing my lips as gently as I could to the knuckles. I dare to look up again and feel my heart plummet when I see that he is hiding behind his bangs. He'd knelt before me, facing me because I held his hands and would not let them go. But now, when I lay my heart out and leave it unprotected, he is hiding himself.

And then he looks up. Tears show in his eyes, slowly streaking down his cheeks and dripping from the firm line of his chin. For the first time in my memory, I am looking not at the guarded door before his eyes but into the man beyond the door. There is nothing between him and me now. I shudder and know that very soon I'm going to break down and most likely hyperventilate. I can still feel tears trickling down my cheeks, carving cold, little trails across my skin.

He seems to notice this and lifts a hand from my grasp to touch my cheek, thumb gently wiping away what he interprets as a sign of my sadness. He does not comprehend the joy I feel that I can see past the mask. And beyond there is so much! Buried behind his amethyst eyes and carefully shuttered behind his mask, I can see his love for me, shining as clear as day. That is the most pronounced thing, but there are other emotions.

I can see his desire to protect me from everything, including himself. I can see a shadowed sorrow that I know comes from the hardships of his younger life. Beyond the sorrow, even darker in the shadows, lies the man I know he can become if need be—the cold-blooded, gold-eyed warrior who will stop at nothing to ensure that I am safe, even if that means breaking his vow. There is lust, something I knew he would have on an instinctive level, but he hides it well. There is also something I did not expect to see and that is possession. The way he is looking at me now tells me I am his, just as he is mine, and the thought makes me shiver. There is so much more than that, but I cannot begin to comprehend them all.

He seems to be waiting for something, some signal that he has done right—that he has the right to continue and say aloud what his eyes are already telling me. I almost snort in derision. For Kami's sake Kenshin! Just once couldn't you hang the damn propriety and do what you wanted to? If he won't I most certainly will.

I close the distance between us, which has already somehow become very small, and kiss him, placing my hand against his jawbone and slowly running my thumb over the scar on his cheek. I've never kissed a man before and it is very clear to me that Kenshin understands this. His lips are gentle against mine and his hand against my cheek is carefully angling me so that our noses aren't too uncomfortable. But there's something missing. Isn't a girl's first kiss supposed to light up sparks behind her eyes or something? As though sensing my thoughts, Kenshin begins guiding me further.

His other hand slides around my waist, pulling me to his lap. I'm quite surprised when I feel his tongue press against my lips as though beseeching. Hesitantly, I open my mouth and am promptly rewarded. He moves slowly, tongue tracing my lips before sliding over my teeth and the roof of my mouth. At last his tongue touches mine and initiates a slow dance that ends when the sensations overwhelm me and I moan. I feel him smile against my mouth, a rakish smile that says he's quite pleased with himself. He'll pay for that later.

He pulls away and I nearly gasp when I see his eyes have become the liquid gold that I usually associate with the heat of battle. Thinking back to the way our tongues tangled, I suppose that kiss could be classified as a sort of battle. Gently, he presses his forehead to mine, eyes drilling into my own. "Kamiya Kaoru, I love you. If you'll have me, sessha…I would be most honored to marry you."

I didn't think I would cry anymore tonight, but his statement promptly proves me wrong. Tears spill out of my eyes and down my face. I see his eyes widen slightly but before he can panic, I've pressed my mouth to his again. The kiss is a great deal longer this time and when he ends it, I am panting and there is a familiar ache in my stomach. I get it every time I sneak in on him doing a kata shirtless. His eyes are clearly telegraphing the same desire to me.

He smiles slightly and a little predatorily as his hand smoothes across the bottom of my ribcage, thumb just brushing the bottoms of my breasts. "Kaoru," he says, his voice soft and considerably lower than normal, "would you care to see another aspect of my hands?"

I shiver against him and that is all the answer he needs. He rises from his kneeling position arms lifting my effortlessly and another shiver races down my spine as his hard muscles shift against my body. He smiles down at me as he starts towards his room and I feel a strong warmth grow in my chest to complement the ache in my stomach.

"Kaoru," Kenshin says softly, calling my attention back to him, "thank you."

I want to say you're welcome as is proper, but it doesn't seem right. He saved me just as much as I saved him, probably more than I saved him, but he would deny that. At last I settle on an answer. "The feeling is mutual."

Glossary type thing:

Kami: the deities of the Shinto religion; Japanese use them in exclamations as many of us use the word 'God'

Tanabata: also called the Star Festival; a time when, according to Japanese legend, the stars Altair and Vega, normally separated in the sky, meet; for the sake of continuity, I've used the Japanese names for the stars

hitokiri: assassin; the most literal translation of this word is "person of the mist"

kata: traditional martial arts exercise

_A/N: Sparkly one-shot written almost in one sitting. (Dinner went and interrupted a perfectly good writing streak.) I hope you all enjoyed it, especially since it's so dang different from my usual style. I'll be interested to see the responses I get from those of you who have not read it yet. (For those of you who have, yes, I edited big time.)_


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